User blog comment:Biggren/The Northern March Original/@comment-2246928-20160131023203

The fox straightened up and treated his subordinates to a vulpine grin. "You really are a bunch of softies, aren't you?" His grin suddenly appeared less than friendly. More like a challenge, uttered by a knave who knew that his gutless would-be opponent would have to accept his proposal to avoid embarassment.

Serrano looked from Bardlin, to Dogbane, to Flewdd, shaking his head as he did. His grin disappeared, becoming a humorless smirk on his fuzzy muzzle. His eyes glistened disappointment.

"My comrades, the would-be takers of Salamandastron, afraid of a woodland. We're not Dazzi, nor are we superstitious ratwives squatting in a hut on the brink of civilization." He folded his paws behind his back, assuming a proud, soldierly position as he finished his words. "We're of an army of three-thousand, cutthroats and conquerors from the farthest reaches of this savage world. Now, are we going to capture these hares?" The red fox asked with a winning smile and a flash of teeth, inserting his own personal desire into the mix.